Vrael
by Louise Burton
Summary: At the finding of a green dragon egg, Vrael embarkes on a journey to his destiny and for the wellbeing of Algaeasia. But what if what is expected turns for the worst? A tale of fantasy, romance, and tragedy all packed together in this story.
1. About a Boy

**Vrael**

**Prologue:**

We can remember this memory long forgotten, hidden in a dreamy haze that lies before us.

In a time much before yours, there was peace. Men, dragons, and elves lived in harmony. Dragons have no beginning and no end, and neither do the elves, for they both suffer as the land does.

But the elves made a dynamic mistake. A young elven hunter hunted down and killed a dragon, seeing it as no more than a… well… animal in the forest. The dragons were outraged and eventually forged a war with the elves.

The elves were shocked from the dragons' reaction. Why? They had not known, for then there was no way of communication between the dragons and other beings. And so the elves fought. At first to defend themselves and their land, but then they attacked the dragons for nothing more than survival.

Thus, it was a very long (five-year) and bloody war, with both teams losing more and more simultaneously, and which both sides later regretted. Until Eragon, the first Rider, found a dragon's egg and hatched it himself, secretly, making the first bond between dragon and elf present. He named his golden dragon Bid'Daum after the custom of the ancient language.

When Eragon's dragon grew to a good size, they traveled together to the dragons and convinced them to live peacefully with the elves. And so both races formed treaties to ensure their safety and peace.

Thus established the Riders.

And now I tell you the story of a young boy, an elf, an adventure, and… something else.

**Chapter 1: About a Boy**

"Again, father?" , said the boy, pleading with his eyes.

His father laughed. "That's tonight, boy. I'll carry you off to bed."

As his father carried him off to the bedroom, the boy asked nodding, "Who was my mother?"

His father hesitated. He was nine. How could he understand? But he had to know sooner or later.

"She was a beautiful woman, and she loved you very much. But she died while giving birth to you, also giving you your real name."

"What was that?" the boy asked, suddenly wary and awake.

"You'll know. Be patient. But you will always be my Vrael" The boy's father snuggled him warmly. Vrael smiled, asking no more questions, for he was a patient, calm boy, never asking for more than he can get.

And the boy fell asleep in his father's arms before he even reached the bed.

Narindel was an average elf city. But unlike Ellesmera, elves lived in trees. The trees often reached to the skies, ending at about midway to show the white clouds. It was always bustling with energy: elves here and there climbing the ladders up to chat with neighbors, sitting on the "porch" and gazing at the midnight stars. It was a beautiful city, more than anyone can ask for. Everywhere you look, you see trees, elves, or animals, all beautiful in one way or another. Although it was bustling, it had this lucid calmness, always around, everywhere, as so stories say. Except when Men seeking trade come and leave through there. Then, there seems to be a tight air, and all eyes go to the Men. No elf in Narindel ever trusted a Man. Why? Legend knows. But that happens rarely. And if it does, life goes on.

Vrael and his father lived in a small, mediocre house just out of the bustling. His father works as a sword-forger, and spends most of his time in his workshop. Vrael was cautioned to go in there because of the sparks coming out of the swords, but, as Vrael grew older, he watched his father at work and even fought with him. Although then, he woke up with bruises all over his body. But by seventeen, it was his father who woke up sore, and Vrael waking up smugly.

Vrael never had many friends. He walked often in the city by himself, but nobody really took much notice of him. He used to stand out of the community a little: most elves had light features, but Vrael had hair as black as the moonless midnight sky, but eyes so hazel-bright, that they looked orange. Or maybe it might have been because he was left-handed. Barely used his right for anything important.

Now at seventeen, he was a man. Tall, well-built, and healthy. He never recognized women in a "certain" way. All he really cared about was his father and his home…and the mountain.

After seventeen years of roaming around Narindel, he was getting jaded from these everyday sights. So he ran into a mountain after exploring in the forests. It was called Bid'Daum, after the first Rider's dragon (Vrael knew everything about the riders after he had heard the story so many times).

He went there almost every night, his father believing he just went out for a stroll. But in fact, he was with the stars. He lay at the foot of the mountain and look at the stars above the mountain peak.

It was the sight for the calm. All he did was just…lay there, gazing at the stars. Why? Nobody knew…except me. He had to think. To think about things he hadn't thought about before in the presence of Narindel. It was as if it was blocking his thought from the world.

What he thought of?

_Everything. _You tell me.

At that time, his father was also suffering from spontaneous seizures, making him fall, bite his tongue, and shake uncontrollably. All Vrael could do was watch, which pained him. He soothed him with his words during them, praying they would help. So sometimes, Vrael had to stay with him, limiting his trips to Bid'Daum.

But, one night, he went to the mountain, his father resting from his powerful seizures. He lay in his normal spot, and looked at the stars-

"Ow!"

Vrael felt something hard under his head, interrupting his thoughts. He sat up, and looked at what he had been laying on.

He saw a glowing green stone.

His heart skipped a beat.


	2. Run

**Chapter 2: Run**

They say everything starts with an end.

They were right.

As Vrael ran, running till his knees went, the vibrating stone under his arm, he could only think of one thing. What if they came already? What if they had reached his father before him? They must have known about the egg.

Over the years, there have been terrible riots, conflicts, _deaths_ over the owning of a dragon egg as the one Vrael was dashing with.

So he ran, as fast as he can, his burning eyes the only thing visible in the darkness.

He reached home. He could here no sound. Narindel has slept. He "ran" up the rope and awakened his fevered father guiltily. At the father's one glance on the glowing egg, he jumped out of bed and started packing food and belongings, and sheathed his sword hastily. Vrael eyed the sword, but he followed suit, and they were out of house in a split second. They saddled two horses desperately, and rode them off into the forest.

It was too fast for the boy. Too sudden. And the forest swallowed Vrael, as if swallowing his soul, his _life_, with it.

"Son," said Briam (sorry. I forgot to mention his name) cautiously yet wearily. "I need you to touch the stone, and stand back slowly."

Vrael did so, an unknown fire growing in his eyes,

Silence.

Nothing happened.

Broken and disappointed, Vrael went to sleep in one of the blankets he had packed; his father tried to soothe him with his words, but Vrael brushed him away like a fly.

Vrael sat up, sweating and shaking.

What was that?

By his physical responses, he seems to have had a bad dream.

But he realized something else.

There was this odd ringing in his head, as if a door to lucidity and openness had been opened by a foreign force, something…different.

Vrael stopped…again.

He turned to the egg, covered in blankets near his head. He unwrapped it, and stared at it blankly.

There was a huge cracked hole in it, and something poking out of it. He approached it curiously. What came out of it?

A dragon! What else?

An emerald-green baby dragon, no bigger than a small dog, lay at his knees, scales glimmering in the light of the stars, it's eyes staring around it, like a new-born child welcomed into this alien world.

Vrael loved it with all his heart on the spot.

He brought his left hand closer to the dragon, and braced himself for the burning pain about to come. But instead, he felt tingling warmth spread from his wrist under the palm of his hand, to his spine, and soon to all parts of his body. He looked at his wrist, and saw a thorn-like, glowing shape there.

He smiled. It was the gedwey ignasia.

Laughing, for now _he _was the story he had been told over and over, Vrael touched the dragon affectionately, and it started squeaking.

He heard an alien laughing of a young boy in his head.

It wasn't his.


	3. Evarinya

Okay, ok. I know the first part was boring, but bear with me people! _Vrael_'s HUGE! And everyday, in my deathly boring classes, I come up with more and MORE crazy ideas! And now, the French and English teachers are pissed of at me because I right those ideas in my doodle book during classes!

Excuse my constant never-ending rambling. You'll see it too often.

_Ermordung is Assassination in German. Chilling…_

L.B.

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**

_P.S. I just started naming the Chapters, 'cuz I found out that…um…you can? Although I didn't name the first ones because…um…I forgot? X-P_

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**

**Vrael- Chapter 3-Evarinya**

"What should we name it?"

"I…maybe-what?" Briam stumbled, his amazement of the dragon blinding him from anything else, unlike Vrael, who couldn't stop asking questions about the dragon, which was so unlike himself.

Vrael dropped the question, and stared at the little dragon, which was…um …"cleaning" between his legs? It turned to Vrael and squeaked playfully.

Vrael smirked at the dragon. "You are disgusting."

All it did was look up at him inquiringly, tilting its head, with big green eyes. But Vrael thought he saw a glint of humor in its eyes.

"What now?" Vrael turns to his father, who was still gazing dreamily at the dragon when Vrael asked him.

"Um…" Briam said, rubbing his eyes as if he just woke up from some kind of trance, "Narindel isn't far off, so we could just continue living life as it was… except we have to keep the dragon hidden here, in the forest, away from the elves of Narindel. And when it's grown enough, we'll see what we can do."

"Can I-"

"_No!_ You can't ride it until you have the right equipment!" Briam said, indicating a not of finality. He knew Vrael was going to ask. He'd been waiting for him to do so.

"I'll be going back to Narindel now. So-"

"Can I stay with the dragon?" asked Vrael pleadingly.

Briam looked at his son, a young Rider, and laughed.

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**

It turned out that Narindel was as calm as it could ever be, obviously not hearing about the egg and the dragon. Briam and Vrael came back to their house, but Vrael spent most of his time with the dragon.

Food? It was no problem. The dragon could hunt the first day it hatched out of the egg, mostly small animals like mice or rabbits. Vrael doesn't eat meat however. It wasn't something that was forced upon him; he just didn't like the idea of the assassination of animals for human needs…

After a month or so, on a sunny spring day, as Vrael was lying in the long grass near his dragon, he heard someone call his name.

_Vrael._

It was the most unreal and entrancing voice he had ever heard. It belonged to a man.

Vrael stood up slowly, wary yet dumbfounded by this eerie voice.

"Wh-Who is there?" Vrael asked loudly, almost shaking with fear and excitement. (Yes, it was _that_ mesmerizing).

_It's me, you twit._

Vrael smiled and turned to face the dragon. He had almost forgotten! Riders and their dragons talk with their mind!

_Who's the twit now, dragon?_

The dragon, now up to Vrael's shoulder, stared at him blankly. _You still are my little one. And to me, you always will be._

_You need a name, _answered Vrael truthfully._ But, all I know from the ancient language is Evarinya, meaning stars. And you're a guy, right?_

_Yes. And Evarinya will be fine, thank you._

_Wow, _thought Vrael. _That was easy._

_I heard that. From now on, your thoughts are mine._ The dragon tugged at Vrael's sleeve sympathetically.

_And yours mine, Evarinya._

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& **

And so life went on. Evarinya grew bigger and bigger, as Vrael grew more open and open to the world.

Vrael even took Evarinya to Bid'Daum sometimes in his father's absence. He watched the stars with his dragon there and told him of the Riders and their stories. Evarinya listened with all intent.

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**

A few months later, Evarinya twice the size of Vrael, Briam came from Narindel with a mule, holding several packs and blankets on its back, and him wearing his sword at his belt.

"What is this?" asked Vrael. "We're not leaving, are we?"

He heard Evarinya's irritated growl behind him. _Are you ever patient, boy?_

Vrael ignored him, and glared at his father immaturely. He had gotten so accustomed to living this way; he had never felt any more content than this.

"You have grown, Vrael. And so has your dragon. How long has it been now, almost five moths?" Briam smiled pleadingly. "You didn't think this was it now, did you?"

Vrael looked at his father still, confused.

Evarinya chuckled, smoke coming out of his nose in short bursts.

Vrael glared at him. But Evarinya merely licked his claws, ignoring him. He then looked back at his father, and sighed.

"So? Where to now?"


	4. A Seizure, an Elf, and a Boy

**Okay. So I spent SO much time on this chapter. This is where things start to get interesting. Read and review! **

**L.B**

_**The board is set; the pieces are moving –Gandalf**_

**P.S. Vrael is hilarious in this part! **

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**

**Vrael-Chapter 4-A Seizure, an Elf, and a Boy**

"Father! Father!" Vrael ran, screaming, into his father's workshop.

Startled, Briam looks at his sweating, shaking, terrified son. "I was writing-with my hand-and-and I found this."

Vrael shows his father his left hand. There was a scar on his wrist, as if someone cut him there. Briam went pale. He had hoped this day would never come.

"Father," says the petrified Vrael "am I dead? Did I bleed to death father?"

Briam looked at his son; something was wrong. There was something dark and alien stirring in the boy's father's eyes. Vrael was too young then to notice.

"I-It's nothing, son," Briam says, trying to keep himself as controlled and calm as possible. "It's something you…um, had since you were born. Just a birth defect."

"But-"

"It's _nothing_!" Vrael's father was screaming. "Now _get out_!"

Vrael stopped. There was a rage Vrael had never seen his father with. It didn't exist. It _shouldn't_ exist.

Vrael took one last look at his father, grasping his scarred wrist, and ran out of the workshop, tripping on the way home.

Briam dropped his tools, sat on the floor. He put his head between his knees, and wept.

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**

The older Vrael now looked at his life-threatening scar. Once a terrifying sign, now a forgotten mystery, one of the last in Vrael's mind.

Vrael looked at the sky, but his dragon was nowhere to be seen. Vrael smiled. _Good. _He had told Evarinya to fly above them, but out of sight. That wouldn't be a problem. He knew that the dragon's green color would blend it with the trees as it flies low over their heads.

Vrael turned his thoughts to the long way ahead of them. The sight of the tall trees, proud, fair, and green all around them bored him. And Evarinya had told him there was much more of that still to come. He had seen some small animals here and there: rabbits, small deer, but shouldn't there be more to life here than trees? Sighing wearily, he asked his father, who was whistling merrily at the soft breeze ruffling his hair, "Why didn't we get horses? Do you have any idea of the leagues ahead of us? I'm going to faint where I stand!"

"The horses are close by. I tied three to a tree nearby in case we need an extra horse," Briam chuckled.

"You've planned this well now, haven't you?" Vrael asked impressed.

"Son, I've been planning it for the last two months."

"Then how long till we reach Ellesmera?"

"A few days at the most, although there'll be a whole lot of riding and walking to come."

"But how will-" Vrael stared at his father. Something was utterly wrong. His father had gone ghostly white. The whites of his eyes showed as his eyes rolled backwards in their sockets. He fell to the ground, shaking vigorously.

A seizure.

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**

Usually when people are stunned by something unexpected and very sudden, they seem to stop in their tracks, both physically and mentally. They just…stop, as if time stopped with them

But Vrael was unlike most people.

He rushed to his father's side, experienced and alert, and felt his pulse.

_No…_

Briam's heart was beating too fast to the point of possible fatality. This was stronger than any seizure Briam has ever had. Almost instantly, blood started flowing from Briam's mouth. _Damn it! _Vrael tried to wipe them off to give him more space to breathe.Briam had bit his tongue.

Vrael looked at the sky, his hands red with his father's blood, and screamed.

"EVARINYA!"

As if drawn by his call, a young woman (she was an elf) came from between the trees. She seemed lost and unaware where she was and what was happening around her, as if in some kind of trance.

"Hey!" Vrael rushed to her, seizing the opportunity. But he tripped and fell face first into a pile of mud (or maybe something else brown and gooey) on the ground.

Dazed, he looked up, mud dripping from his face, and found himself staring up at the elf. She had midnight-black her reaching under her shoulders till her lower back, and her skin was giving a glowing silvery sheen of silver. Her eyes, dark green, almost black, lifted to Vrael's. Chills shot through him.

Vrael could feel blood flowing slowly from his cheek into his mouth. He cut himself in his fall. But he didn't care. For the first time in his life, all life's pleasures were right in front of him.

"Hello! My name is Arya. Who are you?" she said, smiling bluntly.

_Wha-_

"Er…my-" Vrael heard the labored breathing and trembling of his father behind him. He slapped himself hard.

"Please! Can you help me?" Vrael got up and faced Arya, although she was still looking downwards where Vrael was laying.

"Um…" Vrael, puzzled, looked at where she was staring but found only his feet. She was wearing this attentive look, yet blank look on her face.

Briam's wheezing and shaking were increasing, awakening Vrael from his idiotic trance.

He started screaming. "Help! Please! My father! He's having a powerful seizure! Unlike any I've ever seen!" He was on his knees. "I need your help."

Arya suddenly looked troubled. "Where is this man?"

"Er… he's right behind me," Vrael said, scratching his head confusingly. _What is seriously wrong with this elf?_

Arya sighed. "I'm blind, you tit! Lead me to him!"

He flushed, embarrassed, and was thankful that she was blind. Vrael took her hand. The boy trembled at her touch. Vrael led her to Briam and put her hand on his trembling, sweating forehead, kneeling down beside him. She felt his forehead intently while staring blankly at the distance.

"Is there anything we can do to calm hi-?"

"Bring me a flower with a blue hue and purple thorns," Arya ordered him hastily.

"Um…I really don't think that d-"

"It's behind you, you tit," Arya smiles at Vrael sarcastically.

Vrael grabbed the flower, his ears turning red, and watched while the elf squeezed its juices into Briam's mouth. The power of the seizure seemed to decrease rapidly.

"What's with "tit"?" Vrael muttered under his breath.

Not taking her eyes of Briam, she retorted, "Because you are one."

"What? Now you can read my thoughts, too?" Vrael demanded angrily.

"No. I just can hear well because my eyesight's gone."

Instantaneously, Evarinya hurtled through the trees, ripping them with his sharp claws.

_Vrael! Are you alright?_

_Yeah, yeah. I'm fin. This elf, Arya she calls herself, came to our aid. Father was having a powerful seizure._

Evarinya snorted. _You have no interests in this girl whatsoever? You have got to be joking!_

_How can you be so sure, huh? _ Vrael retorted angrily.

_I CAN READ YOUR THOUGHTS, YOU TIT!_

"WHAT'S WITH "TIT"?" Vrael shouted. "I AM NOT A TIT! A TIT IS A WOMAN'S MAMMARY GLAND FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!"

Evarinya and Arya both looked at Vrael with a what-the-heck's-wrong-with-you look on their faces.

Arya smiled and went back to healing Briam, whose seizure seemed to have completely resided, although he was still unconscious. "Hello dragon. Pleased to meet your acquaintance," Arya said calmly.

Evarinya snorted in reply.

"How-er...WHAT?"

Vrael looked at them both, a dazed look on his face. But Evarinya was watching Arya who was tending to Briam. They both ignored him.

Vrael gave up. He sat down, his back to a tall tree, wiping the mud off his face, waiting for an explanation.

Evarinya chuckled playfully. _You are so thirteen-years-old._

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**

**So… was it barf, flowers, or simply sand? What do you think? Please review!**


	5. Sparks and Tears

This is a bit more serious than the last. Kind of weird, but that's what most people WANT nowadays, which is kind of cool. Makes things more exciting.

(Louise slaps herself). Still blabbering.

L. B.

_"Everything is possible. The impossible only takes longer." -Strathmore, "Digital Fortress, Dan Brown_

P.S. I know that how Arya acts and simply is in these chapters is not what you expected, those of you who have read the Inheritance Books, but she's not SEVENTY in this book but looks seventeen. She's actually SEVENTEEN.

P. P. S. I decided to drop "tit" from the last chapter. I thought of keeping it for the whole story, but I don't want to be BANNED from fanfiction, those who think it's a bad word and might report me. ;-P

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

**VRAEL-Chapter 5-Sparks and Tears**

Vrael exhaled for the first time in an hour. His father's seizure had resided completely, although he was still unconscious ("Normal after-effects of a seizure," reassured Arya), and Vrael had managed to wipe of all the mud on his face.

It was getting dark, the moon full and glowing. It would be useless to go anywhere in the dead of night.

They started to set up camp. Lucky for them, the incident happened in a small clearing. Vrael set up the mattress for his father, who seemed to be in a peaceful dream, from the smug expression on his face. Vrael smiled at his father. He was glad he was okay.

Unfortunately for Vrael, there weren't enough sheets for both him and Arya.

_Extra horses but no extra sheets_? Vrael thought with a touch of irony.

He moaned, hopefully out of Arya's earshot.

He turned to Arya, who was tying the horses to a tree. "Um... there doesn't seem to be enough sheets for us both."

"Then we'll both have to share one," Arya replied bluntly.

Evarinya looked up from where he lay next to Briam, eyes glowing with smug interest.

But Vrael only flushed red, grimaced, set up the sheets, and lay beside Arya, edging as much as possible as he can away from her while still being able to keep warm. Evarinya kept on chuckling.

So, both lay there, staring at the stars. Vrael was amazed. He always watched the stars under Bid'Daum, but although they weren't so far away from that mountain, the stars here are... different. Vrael's familiar stars weren't as much and as merry. It was a sight of sights. So many different colors. I THOUGHT ALL STARS ARE WHITE, he thought, awed.

As they watched the stars, the silence was so loud; it rang in Vrael's ears.

"Beautiful stars now, aren't they?" Arya broke that silence, smiling blankly.

Vrael laughed. "Nice try. I know you can't see them. You're blind, remember?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Arya smiles. "I can only see what the naked untrained eye can't."

"Um... I'm pretty sure that anyone can see a dragon as large as Evarinya," Vrael joked.

"I didn't SEE the dragon itself. I saw its essence-or perhaps felt it."

Vrael says nothing, pondering over what Arya said.

"I told you wouldn't understand," Arya chuckled.

There was a long pause. Evarinya long, deep breaths were the only thing the two could here.

"So," Vrael said, trying to decrease the awkwardness between them. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Sixteen"

"I'm seventeen."

"It's fascinating. Though you are, as you say, seventeen, you still act like a young thirteen year old at the edge of spontaneous combustion, my good friend," Arya smiled.

"It's Vrael," he said, irritated.

"Huh. Vrael." His name sounded like an angel's when she said it.

Another awkward pause.

"Ow!"

"What is it now?" the elf sighs.

"That cut," Vrael sits up, and so does Arya, curious. "That damned thing won't stop bleeding!"

Vrael wipes away the blood from the cut. It reached to his neck.

"Let me take a look at that."

Vrael raises an eyebrow. "Um, seriously?'Cause you can't."

"Just stop blabbering nonsense and put my hand on the freaking cut," snapped Arya.

Vrael did so, amused, and waited for her response as she examined the cut with her fingers.

"OW!" Vrael brushes her hand away. "You're only making it worse!"

Arya ignored his complaining, and went on touching the wound. "It will keep on bleeding if you don't heal it instantly."

"A cut can't just heal instantly," Vrael tries to avoid her fingers on his cut.

Arya stopped and looked at him, a doubtful look on her face. "You don't know? Waise Heill?"

"Waise Heill?" Vrael asked rubbing the wound.

Vrael saw sparks of green in the corner of his eye coming out of his left wrist spreading to his hand. He tried to pull away, but some force kept his hand on the wound. His whole hand was glowing green.

Vrael stopped, and finally managed to release his arm from that strange grip. He was silent although shocked. He kept staring at his arm, hiding his fear. _Did I just use magic?_ Vrael felt suddenly exhausted and lay down violently on the sheets, still staring at his hand and wrist.

Arya chuckled, and lay back on the sheets, too. "You still have a lot to learn. Now go to sleep. You must be exhausted."

But Vrael was already sounding asleep.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Vrael awoke sometime after. It was still dark, and the stars were twinkling in the dark void above him. The forest was practically glowing with the full moon's light; including Evarinya. He stared at his arm again. WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT? Pushing that thought away, Vrael stretched and tried to get back to sleep. He probably awoke from some bad dream.

But he didn't.

Vrael heard something a fair distance behind him. He sat up and spun around, but saw nothing but trees. He looked where Arya supposed to lie. She wasn't there.

He heard it again. It sounded like...

Vrael was certain. Someone-or something-was crying somewhere behind the trees.

He stood and walked stealthily and cautiously into the forest, curiosity overtaking him. He kept his pace slow, fearing he might alarm whatever was making that noise.

Vrael smiled. This was the type of adventure he was made for. His lean body and perfect balance would never make a sound, even on autumn's leaves.

The deeper he walked into the forest, the more it felt like the forest was devouring him. Vrael looked back only to see trees. Nothing but tall, evergreen trees.

Vrael kept moving for a few minutes toward the sound. Then, he stopped. A few feet away, he saw Arya, seated on a large rock. But what disturbed Vrael was what she was doing.

She was rocking back and forth, her head between her knees, hands on her face. She wept.

Vrael wanted to comfort her, to tell her everything's going to be alright. He didn't care about why she was crying; he knew she would probably never tell him. He just HAD to stop her weeping, her misery. To see her like this almost drove him into madness.

Vrael started approaching her but something stopped him.

_NO._

It was Evarinya voice.

_But Evarinya,_ Vrael looked at her shacking body, almost shaking himself. _She's crying. I have to help her._

_Stay out of this, Vrael. Leave her._

Vrael felt a hint of sadness brush his mind. It was not his. Evarinya knew something he didn't.

But Vrael didn't question; he didn't complain. He obeyed his dragon's wishes, knowing that Evarinya judgments where wiser than his own.

Vrael sighed, and sat slumped on a tree, his back to the weeping elf. Vrael closed his eyes. He couldn't leave, no matter how much he longed to rid himself of this... alien, yet lucid, feeling.

Was it...

Vrael pushed the thought away. He waited, hoping at least his presence would comfort her.

And then...

Vrael heard singing.

He turned and looked at the elf. She was as she first was when Vrael first saw her, still weeping. But undoubtedly, she was singing between her shaken breaths.

Vrael heard words, but their language was unknown to him. But he understood it nonetheless. The voice. The language. Their beauty together cannot be described. Something stirred deep in Vrael. A void in his heart. Black, distant, unfamiliar.

Vrael slumped where he lay, his head filled with emptiness but that voice. That lucidity. _I... can't..._

The young Rider laid his head back, and cried.


	6. Trees

_Dis__clai__mer_: Terria… I still don't get the point!

**Chapter Six--Trees**

Arya's back ached. _How long have I been like this?_ Time seemed to fly now. The sun was rising above the mountain, giving the forest this fresh glow which Arya was unable to see.

Arya stood up, the forest's ebony scent filling her nostrils. It was all dark to her, but she could feel the morn. The birds singing, the risen sun drying off her tears.

Sighing, she wiped those tears. Arya moaned. Why her? This feeling of remorse, dread, swept her. She swallowed, her mouth dry. It hurt.

_Sniff._

Arya spun around, reaching for her back. There was nothing there. _Brisingr!_ She had left her bow and arrow back at camp.

She lowered her arm slowly and stared at the direction where she heard the sound, waiting.

It finally came to her. Not a sound, not someone calling her name. She saw a floating resin-shaped globe in midair. It was orange. And then it was gone.

Arya relaxed. "Huh. Interesting." She had thought it something worse.

She stretched her arms and headed back to camp, feeling her way through the trees with her hands, humming. Their leaves seemed to shiver at her touch.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Vrael ran. He didn't care if she heard his rushed footsteps. She had already seen him anyway!

Vrael arrived at the camp, panting. Evarinya was up, but his father was still fast asleep. His dragon rushed to his side, nostrils flaring.

_What happened?_ Evarinya asked angrily, edging his face so close to Vrael's, Vrael could hear the flames roaring inside him. _Why are you bleeding?_

_Bleeding?_ Vrael brought up his hand to under his eye, and felt fresh warm blood. _But I thought it healed._ sighing, he started wiping it off with his hands immediately, making a total mess of his face. It was now all covered with smudged brown blood.

Evarinya growled, scowling at Vrael. _Stop! You're only making it worse!_

_Leave me alone!_ Vrael kept rubbing it vigorously. _If Arya sees this-_

But it was too late. Arya came from the woods, looking as calm as she always has been; as if nothing was wrong; as if she hadn't. _Yeah. Right._

"Is it bleeding again? I heard Evarinya growling at you," Arya asked casually. "You probably didn't heal it well when I told you too." She approached Vrael. "Or you probably scratched it with something. Something... like a twig in the forest, perhaps?"

Vrael stared at her while she tends to the wound, cursing himself under his breath for following her in the forest.

"It seems to be wet," Arya observed, then stared directly at Vrael, eyes locking with his. He felt his heart skip a beat. "Did you, by any chance, c-"

Something moaned behind them.

Vrael turned around. It was his father. Vrael rushed towards him, and put a hand on his brow, smiling.

"Father!"

Briam grumbled, his eyes still closed. "What do you want now, Vrael?"

Vrael laughed and hugged his father, thanking the gods for ending that talk with Arya. Evarinya and Arya stood where they were, watching Vrael and his father, content. Arya was scowling.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

_Do you love him_?

Arya looked at Evarinya, shocked. His deep, lucid voice was so new to her, she stopped for a moment. _You can communicate with me? Without Vrael's knowing?_

_I've figured it out over the months, _Evarinya said, boastful.

_But, doesn't that mean-_

_Yes. I have just read all your thoughts and memories. _

_How can I be so sure_? replied Arya.

Evarinya smiled competitively. _Generally? You have never experienced the feeling of belonging. You ache to just wake up one day and look forward to what lay ahead. You think that day will never come as you live like this._

Arya simply stared. _Huh..._

Evarinya looked at her sadly. _You must learn how to shield your thoughts. You're secrets would be the end of Vrael. You know I can't let that happen. And he will soon have the power to do what I just did_.

Arya was unconvinced. _He wouldn't. Not to me._

_You're not so sure. And neither am I._

_But you're his freakin' dragon!_

Evarinya glared at her through emerald eyes. _Yes, but I'm sure one day maximum would tell a person all he wants to know about Vrael's personality. Especially you, Arya. So I'm sure you know perfectly well that, talons and all, I have no full control over that boy._

A long pause.

Then, Arya replied sarcastically, _so, will you teach me how to shield my thoughts and memories, O mighty dragon?_

Evarinya chuckled. _Shouldn't your mother have taught you that already?_

She cringes at the reminder of her "mother."

Vrael was now narrating the events of the last few days to his father, although he kept last night a secret.

_One last question._

_Astonish me!_

_How well do you shoot with your bow and arrow?_

_Pretty good,_ she said modestly. _Why?_

_Because there's someone in the tree behind you,_ Evarinya replied calmly, not taking his eyes off Vrael and his father. _And I want you to shoot him before he gets away._

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


	7. Eoin

Disclaimer: Some of the characters mentioned in these past chapters and yet to come in others are not owned by me; they are Christopher Paolini's characters and are owned only by him and Knopf Inc. They're copyright, too.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

**Vrael-Chapter 7-Eoin**

"There's someone in the tree?"

"Yes Vrael. Now can you please be quite? I'm trying to aim..."

Vrael moaned. "Arya, I don't think even you know you are _actually blind_! And you can't just-"

Briam was curious; he stood up with and effort and headed towards the commotion, interrupting Vrael. "You're trying to shoot a tree?"

"No, father. They think there's someone up there so Arya's going to shoot it."

"But you're blind," Briam sounded uninterested.

"Exactly my-"

Arya released her grip on the string and arrow. Vrael watched as the arrow swift past them into the tree. Then he heard something yelp from there.

Evarinya smiled, baring his needle-point-sharp teeth. _What were you saying now, Vrael?_

Vrael only stood there, jaw open. Briam merely blinked wearily.

And Arya watched smugly as a young man dropped face first from the tree onto the ground, Arya's arrow protruding from his right upper forearm.

The elf was of scrawny, yet of fit stature, probably near sixteen years old, and had dazzlingly-bright brown hair. He wore a blue hair band on his fore-head to keep his long and messy hair up, failing, only to allow his hair to grow over his eyes to the extent of almost totally covering the band. He sat up, and looked at Arya. Vrael gasped.

He had an enormous scar covering most of the left side of his face, shutting his left eye, and spreading vaguely like stripes on part of his forehead closest to his eye; a thin string-like scar from it spreading to his right side under his nose to his right cheek. But beside that pinkish scar, he was a handsome, alive-looking young man, with "an" eye darker than time.

The elf stood up, still clutching his badly-bleeding forearm, and says disdainfully but still able to find some manners, "It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. I'm Eoin." He tries to lift his hand, but withdraws to the ground, grimacing from the pain. His blood was dripping to the ground now, giving his once-black sleeve a crimson hue.

Arya looks concerned. "Are you bleeding?"

Eoin looks up at her, confused. "Um... isn't it obvious?"

But Arya had already run to the camp searching for some bandages and herbs.

"Don't mind her," Vrael said, helping the injured elf up, "she's blind-supposedly."

"But she's the one who shot me right?"

"Yeah. She was," Vrael offered no explanation since he had none.

Eoin stared blankly at Evarinya, who simply snorted, and then back at Vrael. "So," Eoin sat himself against a tree, "You're a dragon Rider, I see?"

Evarinya growled at him, menacingly, projecting his thoughts. _Are you mocking us, boy?_ Vrael smiled at Evarinya.

"No, not necessarily. I'm simply expressing my excitement and reverence to this magnificent creature or yours."

Evarinya blinked and asked Vrael privately, _Is he being sarcastic? 'Cause I can rip the flesh of his bones if he is._

_Honestly, I have no idea._

Arya came back with the bandages and herbs, and knelt down near where Eoin lay.

"Vrael," she said hastily, "place my hand on the arrow."

Vrael did so and watched as Eoin winced from the pain.

"Okay, Eoin. I have to pull the arrow out of your arm, but it's going to hurt quite badly."

"Believe me," Eoin smiled sadly, "I've been through worse. Just please don't-"

But, before Eoin knew it, Arya had pulled out the arrow in one swift pull.

Eoin fought back tears of pain, clutching his bleeding wound.

"If I said 'Ow', what would you say, huh?"

Arya smiled, bandaging his wound. "I'd say 'it would've hurt more if you were expecting it.'"

Vrael cringed when Arya smiled at Eoin; although he was unaware of it, he was jealous.

So Vrael, his dragon, and his father stood and watched as Arya tended to Eoin, the wounded elf cringing from time to time; but besides that, all was silent in the morning of the forest

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


	8. Everywhere

**Author's** _note_: Yeah, now I get what Iris means. I thought this guy in Terria's story was holding and EYE not a flower! That would've been…um…weird… but I and Terria actually SAW a cow's iris once, and it was so cool!

**Discla**_imer_: I do not own _Eragon_ or _Eldest_.

_Chapter__** 8-Everywhere**_

Galbatorix stared at his new dragon, Shrukain, with fiery red eyes. He smiled, his untended teeth showing. Galbatorix, his hair unkempt, was a pale man; his eyes had permanent black bags under his eyes. For not so long ago, he had been found so near death, barely breathing. He had been wandering desolate lands of which I cannot speak of; he was mad then-perhaps still is-and seeking death, although it did not come to him. All vicious creatures cowered under his haunted form: A sunken face, eyes having lost all hope and flame, diminishing them from any light. Until he saw it.

Opportunity.

Driven by his new profound madness, he began his long treacherous journey on foot to the Riders, but was found so hurt and close to death, anyone passing would have thought him a corpse.

But he was healed by the Riders, slept for four days, and demanded what he almost died for, but they would not give it to him. His dementia, his madness, his desperation where conveyed to them. He believed it was the Riders' fault he had lost it.

Then he found a gullible Rider, and his insidious words affected him. By using dark magic, he turned him against their elders. Together, they killed an elder, but then Galbatorix, with his raging madness, killed him. The Riders' found him, the Rider's blood dripping form his hands. He screamed treacherously and hid in the wastelands for years like a hunted animal. The Riders' searched for him, but gave up over time. Then, Galbatorix met, by fate, a weak-of-mind Rider, Morzan, who helped him steal his precious lost. In a desolate forbidden place, Galbatorix taught his apprentice all types of dark magic that should have never been revealed.

And now, he was going to tell the world.

He asked his stolen dragon impatiently, _Are we to go?_

Shrukain avoided his gaze but confirmed, _Yes. All Algaeasia will know._

Galbatorix mounted his black dragon, and flew off into the night, only the dragon's red eyes glowing in the skies.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Caught by surprise, Vrael raised an eyebrow. "A crow? Holding your spear?"

A black crow had just landed on Eoin's shoulder, holding a taller-than-the-owner spear. It was more of a glaive than an ordinary spear. It was tall (eight-foot high, to be exact, while Eoin's only seven) and noble, obviously brought down from generation to generation; the blade was recurred and almost two feet long and etched in brass filigree. It bore a foreign inscription, but Eoin confessed he couldn't read it.

"Yeah, a crow," Eoin smiled. "Found him half-dead, this spear with him. Took him, healed him, he loved me ever since. Ironically, he loved this spear, too, he'd bring it to me always." Eoin rubbed the back of his black crow that cawed in content.

"What do you call him?"

"Brunhivtr."

"White?"

"Yeah, kind of thought it'd be funny."

Vrael simply shrugged, and continued on walking behind Arya and his father, who seemed, even after two hours walking, not interested in Eoin and his crow.

None the less, Vrael was content. He was going to Ellesmera. Nothing else mattered.

At the moment.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


	9. Islanzadi

**Aut**hor's No**te**: Last two chapters were short, right? Oh, and -Louise dies-. Just learnt that there weren't any real courses for creative writing in college... WTF?!

Disclai_**mer**_: Although the movie sux, don't own it. Nor do I the books. They're COPYRIGHT people.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Chapt_**er**_ 10-Islanzadi

"We acted like six year-olds," sneezed Eoin, Brunhivitr fluttering off his shoulder wearily.

They were edging nearer to Ellesmera (considering the abnormal amount of flowers and houses-in-trees they saw) but the trip was not as merry now as it had been for Eoin, Arya, and Vrael. In the flower bed, so much pollen had been blown up there noses, they had to breathe through their mouths to keep the circulation going, but even that was uncomfortable considering you have a mouthful of petals and blades of grass on your tongue. So Evarinya had to pull them out with his talons from the flower bed before they stopped breathing, Briam staring phlegmatically, and they've been sneezing ever since.

Vrael sneezed violently, and wiped his nose up his sleeze. "Why in the world can't you open your eyes while sneezing?"

"'Cause they'll pop out from their sockets you moron," said Arya, the iris still in her hair and her nose blocked completely.

"Um... Arya?" Briam pointed somewhere in the trees.

"Yes?"

"Is that-?"

Arya sighed. "Yes indeed it is."

From the forest came a crowd of armor-claden elves, fair and prominent on horses white. The leader, tall and romantic, approached Vrael. Eoin tried to hide his excitement, failing, and stared up at the elf, his right eye twitching and his foot tapping. Vrael just watched curiously.

"To you, Rider, dragon," said the elf in a low deep voice, "I present Islanzadi, Queen of Ellesmera."

And from behind the horses, as if appearing out of nowhere, came the queen descending from her fair white mare. She was as beautiful as a summer's night, proud and prominent, with midnight hair bound under a diamond diadem. Her silver-blue cloak flew behind her and fell to the ground in languid folds. But she seemed fragile as if hiding a great pain, despite her effortless smile.

Arya bowed first, and the others followed suit. She approached Arya first, who rose and faced her, her eyes not meeting her's. Then she said, sighing, "Hey, mother."

Vrael almost fell on his head, jaw dropped. "You're-"

"A princess," Eoin continued phlegmatically.

Arya sighed, "Yes, and it's horrible, too. Don't-"

"O! forgive me, my friends," Arya glared at her gleaming mother for interrupting her, "for my insolence. I know you have not seen much of Ellesmera, but it is getting late, and you really would want to settle into where all the Riders have stayed in through their training. Come, and I will show you."

Islanzadi approached her horse and mounted it. The others were given horses, except Evarinya who walked near them.

As they passed the trees and the little "villages" encarved into them; the forest seemed almost eeryie and abandoned. It was late, the sun was setting, and evryone seemed to be asleep, even this early in the evening. Vrael and Eoin watched the Queen in awe, still unable to really grab what's really happening. Arya simply trailed behind her mother almost slumped on the horse with disappointment and resent, and Briam was still as quite as he had come, gazing at the stars.

_Arya's a princess?!_ Vrael pondered to his dragon.

_Yes._

_You seem quite blunt about it._

Evarinya looked at him mockingly. _Use that thing you call a mind, little one. It makes perfect sense. She has always possesed an air of command._

_But another barrier has been built up between us now._

_All barriers can be broken._

_Even one like Arya's?_ Vrael replied grim-humoredly.

The queen reached the base of a tree, its trunk ridged by a delcate staircase that spiraled up to a seiries of globular rooms and was suspended in the air by nothing but the trees massive branches.

"Evarinya," the queen lifted and elegant hand, pointing at the eyrie, "you must fly up, as these stairs dont fit a dragon."

Evarinya nodded and in one thrust of its powerful legs, it threw itself upwards and took off.

"And you will be pleased to know that you definitely find this place to your liking. Now tut, tut! Off to bed!"

Islanzadi mounted her horse once more and headed off into the forset with her men, and the others started the long climb to the top, Arya leading the rear.

She stopped for a moment just before the staircase, looked back at her mother, and muttered something to her mother. "Wyrda."

And she climbed, Eoin's spear was a hair-breadth away from her head as he slung it over his shoulder.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


	10. Forests and Kisses

A_utho_r's no**te**: for a period of time in our life, Terria and my favorite word was "phlegm", meaning mucus, FYI. And now, it's "phlegmatic" meaning "slow in a way that if someone drops dead in front of you, you'd be like, 'Oh... some guy's dead...'" -dies-

D**iscl**aimer: Owning any movie or book is illegal, so don't own the Inheritance Trilogy.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Chapter 11-Forests a_**nd Ki**_sses

"Wow," Eoin exclaimed, stunned.

The stairs were long, but nothing an elf couldn't handle. But where they arrived was most shocking.

They stood in a circular vestibule with a pedestal in the center, from it spiraled a pale sculpture of two pale hands and forearms twined around each other without touching. Three screen doors led from the vestibule: one to a large dining room that could surely seat ten people, one to a closet with an empty hollow which Vrael could think of no use for, and one leading to a bedroom open to the vastness of the Du Weldenvarden. It was simpler than Vrael had expected, but awesome all the same.

Grabbing a lantern, Vrael entered the bedroom were two beds and two mattresses were set, with a space lined with blankets where Evarinya could sleep. If lying on his back, Vrael could see the stars and skies of the forest. Evarinya was already there, the last rays of sunlight twinkling on his scales like constellations in the night.

Briam threw his worn-out sac on the floor and relaxed on the chair next to the grey fireplace. "This is cozy."

"Yes, you enjoy it here," Arya said, heading for the stairs. "I will see you in the morning."

Vrael blocked her way. Arya looked at him to glare at him but only saw him looking sincerely at her with his boyish glance. "Why not stay? There's enough room for all of us, and this view is extraordinary."

_Leave her, little one,_ Vrael stared at his dragon apprehensively, but the dragon merely stared back. _She has matters to attend to with her mother._

_Fine._

Vrael made way for Arya and watched her as she waved good-bye and descended down the stairs, her midnight black hair billowing behind her.

"Well!" Eoin sighed, his crow cleaning its feathers on his shoulder. "I'm going to take a little...um... stroll, if I must put it in words that you people will understand." Smiling, Eoin waited to see if anyone would laugh at his joke. When no one did, he shrugged and descended down the stairs, crow on shoulder and spear in hand.

Vrael heaved a sigh and fell back on the bed.

Evarinya shot a puff of smoke at his face making him double-up and start a coughing fit. _Boys._

Vrael could've slapped him if it hadn't been for him being a dragon.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Arya reached the protruding roots of the tree and looked up at the vestuble. If only Vrael knew...

She turned and faced the ever-dark world in front of her and felt her way to her mother's hall. She passed many houses, but heard no one, only felt their presence up in the highs of the tall trees.

The skies were dark once again, stars scattered in the dark like sugar powder scattered on the crust of a cake, like thoughts scattered in my head. Arya arrived at her mother's hall minutes later, felt her way in, and heard her mother ruffling her papers.

"Hello, mother."

"Arya!" came her mother's voice as she ran towards her daughter and embraced her. "It's been so long since we've really talked, like-"

"Mother," Arya broke the embrace and reminded her mother using only her tone of voice and her eyes.

The air around the two tensed, and Arya felt her mother recoiling. "Why, yes."

She heard Islanzadi return to her throne, falling into it with a heavy sigh. She returned to her papers leaving Arya there to stare blankly. "Er..." Arya scratched her head awkwardly. She never really had a relationship with her mother, so really talking to her was like talking to a log. "Is father back?"

"Yes, child. He is back in the bedroom. Poor dear. He was so weary the moment he hit the pillow he fell asleep."

"Huh."

An awkward silence engulfed them.

Arya sighed, and walked to the door. "Well, I'll see him tomorrow, then. See you."

"Good-bye child," Islanzadi went back to her papers. "I love you, Arya; you are my only real family, my life. But I cannot undo the past, and you must soon learn that."

Arya walked through the door, not even looking back at her mother.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Eoin doubled up in pain and vomited near his tunic, the black feathers of the raven protruding from his bleeding chest. He fell on the ground and curled himself into a ball, the evil howls of the curse growing louder and louder in his head. Shaking uncontrollably, his eyes were sealed shut, Eoin groped for the raven in his chest, screaming in agony and gore. But only emerged with a chest bleeding more than ever and a crimson-red hand.

"Please," he begged it, reaching again through the opened scar in his chest for the raven, "please, no..."

Again, nothing. Only endless screams, howls, and blood. He finally renounced for the millionth time and put himself, crying, into a lying position, his back to the floor. Through the tears of pain, he could see the stars twirling around him.

Eoin screamed for the final time tonight, his black wings protruding from his back painfully.

The pain stopped; it went as quickly as it had come yet Eoin waited, eyes still sealed shut. The howls were still there, but they quieted in his head, making it easier to think. His bare chest was covered in dry, crusted, now brown blood. The young man stood up, and examined his chest as he did every night after his ordeal. The scar was sealed shut once more and it seemed like nothing happened. But he only knew what was really in there.

Eoin then looked at his wings. They were taller than him, and blacker than darkness itself. They were strong and fair, yet dark and evil. Eoin blew his now black hair from his filthy face, his tears making clear paths through the blood on his face.

Addressing his wings, he said, "Well, you scoundrels have grown now, haven't you?"

Eoin seated himself on a nearby rock, torn hair band in hand. Then-

"Eoin?"

He jumped, wings lifting with him. And in front of him, was Arya, looking curiously in his direction.

"Um..." Eoin had no time to think. "Arya! What are you doing here in this time of the night?" Eoin tried to act as casual as possible, for he knew she couldn't see him and his curse.

Arya approached Eoin suspiciously. "I'd ask you the same question. Where are you? Take my hand."

Eoin did so, not trusting himself to say anything. He led her to the rock he was sitting on, and sat next to her, trying so hard not to let his wings touch her back.

"So, were have you been?"

"Here and there, I suppose. Are your wings real?"

Eoin was nearly pushed off his seat. _How does she know?_ The howls and screams inside his head raised the alarm, then subsided, and Eoin knew it was okay.

"Um... yes, they are. But how did you know?" Eoin was literally shacking with anxiety. Should he tell her?

"I can feel the breeze on my back. May I touch them?"

Eoin shifted in his seat and extended his wing to her. She felt it, staring blankly at the floor.

She said, "Why are they black?"

Eoin itched to ask her how she knew that, but knew better. "Because so is Brunhivtr."

"He's the curse?"

"Yeah," Eoin sighed loudly. "Every night, it burrows into this scar on my chest," he put her hand on it and she gasped in awe, "and gives me these hideous wings. May it burn! It gave me that scar in the first place, and with my own spear! And I, stupid, thoughtless I, HAD to care for it and HAD to raise it and-"

But Arya put her finger and shushed him. He stared at her, surprised, as she examined his chest with her hands. He shivered at her touch.

"You've been through so much pain," Arya looked at him sadly.

"Oh, it's not over yet, dear," Eoin replied with grim humor. "I've been through much, but in the end, it doesn't even matter. Will you wait here with me till it is?"

Arya laughed and said, "It's amazing how we can make jokes out of grim things like pain and curses."

"Yes. Simply marvelous."

Eoin liked it when she laughed.

"So, how must we pass this tense time?"

Eoin didn't need to answer that. His lips touched hers almost instantly and he kissed her, but she did not pull away. His arms held on to her tightly as did his wings; he will never let her go.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

As their kiss turned heavier, Arya developed doubts. His wings had engulfed them, and all she could sense was he. But she felt something else stir inside him, or, shall I put it, _heard_ something stir inside him. She heard menacing sounds, like howls and screams. But she put her conscience side away for now; it really wasn't helping.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Evarinya stared at the vast open lands of the Du Weldenvarden. He saw the end of it, but to a human eye, it would look endless.

Vrael got up from the bed and went to Evarinya's side. Briam was reading a scroll he found over the fireplace.

_We're lucky, aren't we?_ Said Vrael. _People have died to see these lands I've heard._

_Are you implying that you finding me was just luck?_

_No! I know dragons chose their Riders, not the opposite way around._

_Sure, V-_ Evarinya stopped and looked more closely at somewhere in the distance.

_What is it?_ Vrael pin-pointed where Evarinya was looking, but saw nothing. _Is it dangerous?_

_No, it's nothing._

Vrael sensed the hesitation in his voice, and tried to pry into the dragons mind. The dragon was caught unawares, so Vrael got a few images. He fell back on the bed, shocked. Briam looked interested.

Evarinya turned and looked at the young Rider sadly.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

A/n: sorry this chapter's too long. Please read and review, though!


	11. Confused

_A/_n: We're gonna dissect a brain next time in Mad Science! Woohoo! Yes, I know. G.R.O.S.S . But it's so cool! I mean, a heart, an eye, then a BRAIN?! ...Yeah.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Ch**apter **12-Confusion

Vrael sat up on the bed, dazed, only because of a few images he pried out of his dragon's head. Evarinya was watching Vrael, concerned. Briam was distracted with from the scrolls and he looked at Vrael, a boyish look in his eyes. "...What?"

Vrael suppressed his laughs, giving himself away with a smile. That's what he liked about his father: no way couldn't he make anyone down laugh.

Vrael sighed deeply. Evarinya looked at Vrael, his green eyes glimmering with sadness. Vrael simply managed a smile and shrugged back. He couldn't hide from Evarinya how much he cared for Arya, how dejected he felt right now. There was something deep inside of him, urging to come out. Like a monster, clawing on his insides, doing a back-flip every time it heard her name

Vrael shook his head, frowning. He shouldn't be perturbed by this. What was he to care? He was Rider, and right now, that's what's important. And what should be, and will eventually be, in his mind right now is Eoin.

But he just couldn't put a finger on what annoyed him most right now: Eoin's evil black wings, or his lips touching Arya's.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Eoin shifted uncomfortably as he kissed Arya, and she could tell something was wrong. She broke the embrace and searched for his face in the dark. holding it gently with her hands, she said, "Is it time?"

"I-"

Eoin started sweating and shaking terribly. No, it was not time. But the voices in his head told him something else, something wicked.

"No-I can't-"

Arya heard them again, the screams. She held Eoin firmly and said, "I'm here, Eoin. Control them."

Eoin almost laughed. That was so out of his reach it seemed stupid to even mention it.

He stared at Arya and kissed her for the last time. Then, he stood up hastily, grabbed his spear, spread his wings, uttered a single heart-shattering scream of frustration and pain, and flew into the night sky.

Arya watched him disappear, and felt a tear fall down her cheek. It wasn't her's.

She stood up, letting her mind wander. She felt... strange. A mix between sadness, understanding, and pain herself. But she felt no hint of love for him. None. But she pushed that out of her mind regardless. It was the least in her mind.

She bent down and grabbed his torn tunic, looking up to the ski. The night was coming to an end, she felt, and he will have to go through it all over again.

She sighed and headed back to the vestibule, feeling her way with her hands as always, her tears meeting his.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&


	12. Pained Warmth

Disclaimer: I do not know Vrael or any of these characters, nor do I own them.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

C_**hapt**_er 13-_Pain_ed Warmth

Arya entered the dim-lighted verituble grimly. She had never planned for this to happen.

On the way up the long spiraled stairs, she considered her odds with Eoin. They weren't to her favor. He was... different. He was good-looking and all, and he was cursed, as somehow she was, but he always seemed distant to her, and, she fears, he will always be so; while she's realistic and down-to-earth (somehow). She knew why now, and she couldn't do anything about it. He is young, and he does not seem to understand, although his curse would've been thought to clear his eyes by now.

And he didn't love her. He couldn't-

Arya shook her head angrily. _I ain't fooling anyone, not even myself._ Romantic or realistic, she couldn't cared less. She was only... scared. The voices, the screams. _Is that really him?_ She shuddered at the thought.

Evarinya's low deep breaths snapped her back to the present. Briam was snoring contently in the arm chair, his glasses dangling from his nose and the scrolls scattered across his lap. Evarinya was coiled into the ball on the warm mattresses, his breaths loud and long. And near him sat Vrael (Arya could feel his presence), staring distantly across the black horizon of the forest.

Arya smiled and sat next to him careful not to the step on Evarinya, shoulders and hips touching, none making an effort to shift.

Vrael simply blinked, not taking his eyes of the horizon.

Arya eyed him, concerned. Something didn't feel right. "Vrael?"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Vrael flinched at the sound of his name coming from her lips. How he loved her!

He looked at her hiding his true emotions, and saw the concern written across her face. He was glad, but retaining his expressionless face, he said, "Yes, Arya?"

Arya said nothing, and merely heaved a weighty sigh.

Vrael took no notice and turned back to the horizon. A long silence followed. Vrael saw the sun as a tiny yellow speck in the horizon, but it was so small, no light was cast on the forest yet and the stars still shone. It was a beautiful sight, unlike Vrael had ever seen.

_But then again, so is Arya,_ he thought to himself.

Vrael was awoken from his thoughts by a soft touch on his arm.

"Vrael?"

He looked and saw Arya staring at Vrael with her black-green eyes, her hand on his. He flinched, hoping she hadn't felt that. "Have you not slept?"

"No, Arya. I have no hope in sleeping tonight."

Arya was too sleepy to notice what he was hinting to, and yawned loudly. She inched closer to him, and rested her head on his shoulder. "Well, I do."

Vrael smiled, unable to hide it this time. "G'night, then."

Arya cuddled closer to Vrael, like a child cuddling in her sheets. "You're warm."

"If that's a compliment, so are you."

Arya fell asleep that night smiling, her head still resting on Vrael's shoulder. He looked at her for a while, and saw a tear run down her silky white cheek. He wiped it off with his free hand.

Finally, Vrael sighed deeply, and rested his back against Evarinya's warm scales behind him. Just before he closed his eyes and fell deeply asleep, he heard Evarinya's quite chuckling in his mind.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Eoin perched on the topmost of the highest tree his wings taut and stretched behind, his knees bent to his chest; he scanned the horizon in front of him. His now-improved eye saw the houses, the elves inside, the content faces they wore as they slept.

Eoin grumbled enviously over the growing voices in his head. He turned and stared at the vestibule and saw Arya and Vrael both asleep, Arya's head on Vrael's shoulder, a smug expression on her face.

Eoin only blinked blankly. He cared less. He didn't really love Arya. Eoin laughed grimly. How could he ever love? Yes, suicide has touched his mind many a million times, but the moment he picked the knife, the voices made him put it back again. They were part of him now-or, better put, they were HIM now.

Eoin eyed the rising sun in the distance and scowled. Now was the end of the night, as it has always been. Screams loudened in his mind, and his wings trembled. Eoin didn't move. The pain would come surely as it had before, but he liked it up here. The serenity and beauty of the forest seemed to decrease the screams.

So he stayed there, wincing and gasping every now and then in the pain.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

_**A/n**_: I'm thinking about dropping the idea of VraelxArya. Too naive, in my opinion. Tell me: should I drop it for good, or just for a long while through the story? (Sparks and minor attractions included, though).


	13. Colors

**A/N: **Karma freaks me out.

Dis_claim_er: Don't own the Inheritance Trilogy.

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**

Chapter 14-Colors

Vrael woke up. He gazed out, his eyes taking time to adjust to the sunlight. When they did, he was speechless.

To his right was the reincarnated sun, giving off a yellow light touching the tips of Ellesmera's trees, making there leaves glow golden. He could see birds. Hundreds of them! They flew here and there, left and right, to the trees or to the sky, in groups determined by their colors. Vrael couldn't count them, but he saw rainbows and rainbows of colors gleaming in the sunlight.

Vrael gapped dreamily at the view silently. A while later, Evarinya's rousing-loud breathing snapped him back to the present. Vrael itched to stretch, but just before he got up, he realized Arya's head on his shoulder. Memories of last night flooded in, and he cringed at the memory of Arya and Eoin. But, nevertheless, he stared at Arya not making an effort to conceal his glowing smile. She looked so peaceful while she slept, still gripping his arm warmly. How could he bare to stand and ruin this?

He tore his gaze away from her and surveyed his surroundings. His father was curled into a ball in the chair, now, snoring loudly, glasses still on. Eoin still wasn't there.

The idea hadn't hit Vrael yet. Eoin? A monster? Yes, he has seen it and believed it, but it hadn't sunken in yet. Vrael shook his head angrily, and swore at himself. _Think!_

_I already have,_ Said Evarinya drowsily.

_I was addressing myself._

_Yes, but now, I am part of "yourself", aren't I?_

Vrael considered it. He was part of his conscience now, and Vrael part of his. The feelings, desired, actions, pain; all shared in between them. They are one.

_Back to the subject, Evarinya._

Evarinya eyed him doubtfully.

_What are we goin' to do?_ Asked Vrael. _Why have the gods laid upon us Eoin as a curse?_

Evarinya chuckled sadly. _Why Vrael? Don't you realize you're not even close to answering your questions? For you're only asking them again._

_Evarinya-_

_I know you love her, child. I can feel it miles out by its strength. But it's clouding your mind._ He nudged Vrael's shoulder affectionately. _I feel with you; don't fret. But love is a blessing in disguise. It will take a while to reveal itself, but when the time is right, it will. Try to put it aside, little one. At least for now, until we get this sorten out. And I swear upon Mother Vrevada's life I will always be with you, through heart-brake and all._

Vrael blinked with surprise. He had never heard anyone, even his own father, say anything of this wisdom. Somewhere in the void that surrounded him now, theu8 Rider knew he was right. He just didn't want to admit, so he merely shrugged in response, avoiding catching Evarinya's eye.

Saddened, Evarinya turned his head from him. Vrael only knew he was trying to make him feel bad and smirked playfully, nudging his dragon with his shoulder.

_I understand, Evarinya. I really do. And I agree totally. But my heart thinks otherwise._

_Ha! Since when has your heart done you any good?_

As if on cue, Vrael felt Arya shift her head on his shoulder. Vrael hesitated. Should he wake her up? Finally giving up to finding the best way to rouse her, he poked her twice on the head. Vrael could feel Evarinya's body rock up and down as he suppressed his laugh. Arya raised her head and looked right at him lethargically. "_What?_"

Vrael tried so hard to suppress a laugh from her bleary face and resentful, yet playful, expression. It didn't work.

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**

Eoin looked up at the colorful brimming sky heaving a great sigh of melancholy. It was over for now, and Brunhivtr was perched on his left shoulder now, Aiglos, his spear, resting on his left. Oh! How he wished to join the fluttering birds spiraling freely above. He marveled their openness and freedom, and reproved his own. Brunhivtr bit him hard on the neck for a reminder where he was supposed to go. Eoin exploded.

He growled fiercely at the crow, and lost it all. He screamed and swung AIiglos at the cursed crow, missing by inches. Brunhivtr fired back and bit him hard on his scarred eye. Eoin moaned in pain, but, ignoring the bleeding gash, he attacked the crow with more savageness he had ever imagined possible. _It must end now, you DAMNED ASS! _But, again, despite his pin-point accuracy and inhuman strength, he missed again, lost his footing, and fell face-first in the flowers before him. Bruhivtr let out a caw that sounded much like a laugh, and landed on Eoin's back. Eoin trembled and shaked with anger. He heard a soft, evil, mocking chuckling in his head.

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**


	14. Shards Reassembled

A__n: Yes, I've had some speculation over Arya's blindness. Don't worry, I _have_ read _Eragon _and _Eldest. _And Arya's not going to stay blind for good! Remember the curse mentioned? No da.

Dis_**clai**_mer: Don't own The Inheritance Trilogy.

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**

_**Chap**__ter 1_5-Caution

Washing the blood and soil from his face in a nearby stream, Eoin calmed down, only to be tensed yet again when the crow made any sudden moves on his shoulder. His florid reflection disturbed him as he gazed down on the water. His dusky, bagged eyes, matted hair, sullen expression. _I look dead, _he thought with the disturbing idea prodding the back of his mind that he might always look that way.

His shoulders slumped with the embarrassment and ignominy he felt. He laughed at himself, and the crow stared at him with wide eyes. He felt nostalgic now, longing for the things in the past. Oh, how wonderful life was back then! His wonderful village, the smile people gave him as he passed bye, no staring as now from his hideous scars. Back then, he was a paragon for the younger ones; all looked up to him to do something heroic and idol-ly to burst the enthusiasm in their souls.

_But, then again, _Eoin considered,_ paradise never lasts forever._ _What? Like everything was gonna stay the way I want?_

He stood from his crouch and surveyed his surroundings. He saw it was close to late morning, and he must be heading back to the vestibule. _People will be wondering._ But Brunhivtr crowed loudly in disagreement. Eoin growled at him, but the crow only looked at him haughtily through its red eyes.

Surprisingly, Eoin couldn't find his tunic from where he left it on the ground. Smiling, he thought, _Arya._

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**

Vrael stared at himself in the mirror. Nothing seemed to have changed. His unruly hair, his close-to-orange eyes, and his glowing skin; all the same. Vrael scowled at his hair. He tried straightening it with his hands, but to no avail.

Evarinya poked his large head in the bathroom and stared at Vrael matting his hair down vigorously with a huge green eye. Vrael gave up and looked at Evarinya questioningly. _Shouldn't we be with the queen right now? She said she wanted to talk to us last night upon our arrival._

Evarinya shrugged. _I think you should follow Arya. She obviously is making haste to leave. _

It was true. Arya was already dressed and ready, bow in hand. She was wearing a green linen blouse bringing out the colors in her eyes, and brown trousers. She was waiting for Vrael behind Evarinya. "Um, Vrael?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you should wake your father. I'd do it, but he seems so… well… _old."_

Vrael laughed, went to his father, and shook him violently. Briam, waking up with a start, dropped his glasses and Vrael watched remorsefully as they shattered on the floor.

Briam stared drowsily at Vrael, then the remains of his glasses, then at Vrael again. "Oh, you narrow-minded son of mine, you. You know I can't function without my glasses."

Although Briam didn't seem to care as he just awoke, Evarinya stared at Vrael. _Do something!_

"Er…"

Arya sighed and bent down on the floor. "Put the broken shards in my hand, Vrael."

He did as he was told, and Arya stood up, putting the shards in Vrael's right hand. Vrael cringed as the shattered glass dug into his skin. "Now concentrate, raise your left hand over the glasses, and mutter 'reassemble' in the ancient language."

Briam stood up from his seat and stretched, watching Vrael. "Well?"

"I-" Vrael hesitated. What was he supposed to do?

_Just do it, boy._

Vrael heaved a deep sigh, and concentrated hard on the shards in his hand. He could see prickles of blood forming on his palm, making it even harder for him to concentrate. Nevertheless, Vrael said, "Malthinae," As Arya had told him, and, right before his eyes, the shards and pieces of the glass reassembled as rays of light erupted from his Gedwey Ignasia and surrounded the shards, revolving and moving them in midair, arranging them to their past form as if arranging a puzzle. A few moments later, a full pair of clear, golden-rimmed glasses lay in his hand. Vrael staggered. Yes, this was surprising, but the energy it took from him was exhausting, he had to lay a hand on Evarinya to keep himself from falling.

Briam blinked twice in surprise, yet did not let his facial expressions convey it. He took his glasses from Vrael's shaking hand and surveyed them thoughtfully. "…Interesting."

Arya stared blankly and asked, "Did it work?"

Vrael regained his balance and tried to control his speeding heart-rate, breathing deeply. "Yes, but-"

"Ah, all questions will be explained soon," Arya interrupted. "For now, just keep it as it is."

Vrael nodded and leaned against Evarinya, still panting.  
_That… was…_

_Strange, _even the dragon could not hide his surprise.

_Wonderful! Imagine what the elves could teach me of these powers! First that cut, now this!_

_Cautious, child. You felt how those incidents drained you so easily and hastily. There's no knowing of what it can do in the wrong or mistaken intentions. Use it wisely._

At that precise moment, Eoin came from the doorway from the stairs, bare-chested. Brunhivtr was still on his shoulder and Aiglos was still in his hand, as if nothing had happened. His scar on his chest glistened red as if swelled, but Eoin seemed not to notice. Vrael, Briam, and Evarinya eyed him menacingly. Evarinya even let out a low growl.

Eoin entered the vestibule, and he sensed the tension. Smiling awkwardly yet retaining a solid smug expression, he said, "I was walking through the forest when my tunic caught a tree branch and tore, in case you're wondering."

_He lies easily, _thought Vrael, trying to hide his envy.

_That he does._

At the sound of his voice, Arya turned around from the view and smiled briefly, yet hesitantly, at him. Eoin returned the greeting awkwardly, and a pang of jealousy rushed up Vrael's spine.

He stood up and said, "So… shouldn't we be heading to Queen Islinzadi's hall? Arya, you said she wanted to meet us…"

Arya stared blankly at him then snapped back to the present. "Huh- oh, yes. That. Yes, she'll want to talk to you especially, Vrael and Evarinya, about the training that will be set upon you, as upon all the other past Riders throughout history."

"Er- then we should get going," replied Vrael timorously. Briam and Evarinya still kept their gaze on Eoin, like fathers keeping danger away from their son.

Brunhivtr ruffled his wings noisily on Eoin's shoulder. Eoin said frivolously, shooting a quick glance in Arya's direction, "Sure, guys. That'd be great. But can someone get me a new tunic first so I may attire before appearing by the Queen?"

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**


End file.
